Chapter 4
When Abby next awoke she could finally remember everything. It came in flashes, the man coming in, being drugged, a hazy car ride. She pounded the floor in frustration. She needed out, she needed Gibbs, she needed McGee, Tony, even Ziva, she needed a Caff Pow, she needed Bert (the farting hippo stuffed animal), she needed to pee.
She was going crazy. Her caffeine deprived body would soon collapse. She would never see Gibbs again, or McGee, Tony or Ziva. She would never taste another Caff Pow, or hear Bert's farts again. She was convinced she was going to die.
A soft, almost polite knock on the door jolted her out of her frantic thoughts. The door opened slowly, and Jonathon Wesley appeared.
"Please come with me, Abby, dear," he said with his resounding English accent. He entered the cell and offered her a hand getting up. Deciding to do as she was told she stood, ignoring his helping hand. Wesley laid an arm around her waste and led her out of the room. She tried not to shudder with disgust as he touched her.
He led her down the hallway she had been through the previous time that she had gotten out, but soon the stark white hallway gave way to what appeared to be the inside of a mansion. Thick plush carpet sank beneath their feet and soon lavishly furnished rooms came into view. He led her into a bedroom, complete with a canopy bed, a floor length window, which revealed that they were on the second and top floor of a large building, and a wooden writing desk. The walls were hung with many paintings and there were sculptures scattered across the room. It was a dark kind of room, despite the art, and the window. Its walls were painted a deep blood red.
"I have taken the liberty of retrieving a few of your personal items from your apartment," he told her, gesturing to a suitcase that was lying on the bed. "Dinner will be served at six; someone will escort you to the dining hall. You see, Abby, I am not uncivilized, you will remain here as my guest," and before she could say a word, he had swept out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
The moment it had shut, she rushed over to see if the door was locked. It was. She sighed, tiredly, "Guest," she scoffed, and went to look around the room. It was definitely not very ‘her', being as old fashioned as it was, but still, it was better than the cell. When she opened the suitcase, she nearly began to cry again. The item on top gave her more comfort than she'd had in days. It was Bert.
"Boss," McGee called across the bullpen, "we got a hit on Tillon's car. It's parked at a bar, about twenty minutes away." Gibbs said nothing as he gestured for the team to collect their stuff and follow him into the elevator.
Five minutes later Gibbs pulled up in a parking spot at Bill's Bar. The team, each faintly green, stepped out of the car. Gibbs gestured questioningly at the silver Honda across the lot, and McGee nodded in reply. As they surrounded the vehicle, they noticed a figure inside. After a nod from Gibbs, Ziva knocked on the driver's side front window. The window rolled down, and a very drunk man leaned out to speak, not noticing anyone, but Ziva.
"What can I do for…you?" he asked, his voice slurred as he looked her up and down, taking in everything about her, except for her glare, gun, and badge.
Ziva snapped. Reaching into the car with one hand, she pulled the man up by his shirt, while using the other to press the gun firmly against his head.
"Dude," the drunk said in surprise, but she cut him off.
"Where is Abby?" she hissed venomously, "Why are you sitting in a stolen car, and do you realize that if you look at me like that again your death will be a long and painful one?"
"Who's going on? What's Abby?" he asked confusedly.
"Don't make me ask again," growled Ziva, her hand pushing the gun harder into his scalp.
"Ziva," said Gibbs to get her attention. She looked at him and he gestured for her to put the gun away. Rolling her eyes as she did so, she practically threw the man away from her.
"It's not Wesley," said McGee confused.
"No, it's not," replied Gibbs, "DiNozzo, get him into interrogation."
Underneath Bert, Abby had found a selection of her clothes and shoes, as well as her toothbrush, and hairbrush. She was silently grateful for these things, but hid it, just incase her captor was watching her. On the other side of a narrow door in the corner of the room, there was a small bathroom. Abby nearly yelped with joy when she found the toilet. After finally relieving herself she changed into her favorite plaid skirt, and black t-shirt. Unsurprisingly, there was no jewelry to go with her outfit. Abby smirked, proud of her defiance, yet she still missed her spiky collar. After she had changed, she laid on the bed to think.
Her thoughts first turned to Gibbs, and how he had been like a father to her. What was he doing to find her, she wondered. When was he going to come save her from this maniac? As for Wesley, what was he going to do to her? Why had she been taken in the first place? As she pondered these questions she almost, almost, longed for a cell, just to simplify things. She almost cried with frustration at the mind games he had insisted on playing with her. Maybe dinner would explain it all; maybe it would all become clear.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Tilon's car is found, but will it led them to Abby?